Ransom’s article claimed that so clear were Ford’s imperialistic aims and programs in Indonesia that two Berkeley academics, Leonard Doyle (the first field chairman) and Ralph Anspach (a graduate student), resigned in protest. Anspach, according to Ransom, claimed, “I had the feeling that in the last analysis I was supposed to be a part of this American policy of empire… bringing in American science, and attitudes, and culture… winning over countries—doing this with an awful lot of cocktails and high pay.”95 These claims are not addressed in Ford’s Ransom-rebuttal dossier; nor is there any evidence of attempts independently by Ford to contact Anspach for his version of events, in contrast to contacts with scholars friendly to the foundation.
Professor Leonard Doyle, described by Ransom as an “essentially conservative business professor” who wrote a paper on “Reducing the Barriers to Private Foreign Investment in Underdeveloped Countries,” based on his research in Indonesia, experienced problems relating to Ford’s representative in Jakarta, Michael Harris.96 Doyle informed Ransom that “I was not as convinced of Sumitro’s position as the Ford Foundation representative was, and, in retrospect, probably the CIA,” which resulted in Doyle’s refusal to hire pro-Sumitro professors. As Sumitro was part of the political and military opposition—which had official CIA and State Department military and financial support97—Doyle wanted to avoid California’s getting “involved in what essentially was becoming a rebellion against the government—whatever sympathy you might have with the rebel cause and the rebel objectives.”98 On the other hand, Ford internal documents suggest that the problem with Doyle was that he was difficult to work with and that he failed to “establish good working relationships with either Sumitro or his principal lieutenants.”99 Again, Doyle was not approached by Ford to verify the account he provided to Ransom.100 Another relevant reference to Doyle in Ford papers relates to Doyle’s contemporaneous complaints about Ford’s programs and aims in Indonesia. For example, Harris wrote in January 1958 that Doyle had openly expressed disquiet about Ford programs, declared them “a dismal failure,” and called on UC to discontinue their involvement. Harris reported that Doyle thought “that California had been an unwitting tool of State Department and [Ford] Foundation foreign policy objectives which he believed to be completely unsound…. Apparently he was not able or did not desire to conceal his views” from anyone, including UI faculty.101 Yet in a dossier claiming to present a clear picture of Ford’s programs, no provision was made to contact Doyle for his perspective.
Ford’s Ransom-rebuttal dossier also criticized, as radically undermining Ransom’s claims, the “fact” that he “lumps together” Ford with Rockefeller, USAID, the State Department, American corporations, and so on, implying that Ford wanted to “set the stage for the imposition on Indonesia of western economics,” when in reality each of the organizations had different aims and methods.102 The evidence cited above, however, supports the idea that Ford did wish to shift Indonesia out of the orbit of the “socialist/Soviet bloc” and—economically, politically, ideologically, and militarily—into the Western world. Although those organizations were separate, Ford went to great lengths to ensure that their programs were in line with official U.S. foreign policy. Ford’s pluralistic defense does not stand up to close scrutiny, despite Ransom’s journalistic hyperbole.
FORD AND THE TRANSITION FROM SUKARNO TO SUHARTO
Imposing change from outside may be putting it too strongly. The foundation targeted its financial resources to foster, construct, and sustain elite power-knowledge networks that were, in the main, already disposed to American development strategies, in an environment where funding was scarce and need was great. Thereby, Ford effectively financed certain disciplines, specific lines of enquiry as opposed to others,103 and consolidated and sustained a pro-American counterhegemony within the Indonesian educational system that, in turn, was networked with several political parties, student organizations, Islamic groups, the national police, and the army. The aim was clearly to “win” Indonesia as a great prize—economically and strategically—for the West. Ford wanted political and economic change in Indonesia: from Sukarno’s “radical society: anti-democratic, anti-capitalistic, and probably even anti-socialistic” to one that practiced “moderate” economic policies. As Widjojo was approvingly quoted in one Ford report, the Ford economists were taking a long-term view to “build for the future.” Bresnan approvingly quotes Widjojo’s inaugural address at UI, emphasizing the necessity in economic policy of “efficiency, rationality, consistency, clear choices among alternatives, and attention to prices and material incentives.”104 Ford itself concluded that the most effective role it had played in Indonesia was in the “building of nuclei of Indonesian cadre with institutional cohesiveness and durability… [and the] association of Indonesian and foreign supporting institutions which continues after the conclusion of substantial training programs.”105 Bresnan notes, in 1993, that the technocrats’ “years at Berkeley and other (largely) American universities… gave them great confidence in their professional ability to set the nation on the path to economic growth; this alone tended to set them apart from the others [nationalists], to bind them closely together as a kind of secular brotherhood, earning them the sobriquet ‘Berkeley mafia.’”106
This section considers Ford’s attitudes to the changes that took place in Indonesia from the time it became untenable for Ford to stay in Jakarta (1965) to the time of their return (in 1967), the appointment of Ford-trained economists to Suharto’s military regime, the role of the Ford-funded Harvard Development Advisory Service team, and the overall changes that occurred in Indonesia after the military takeover.
Ford’s office in Jakarta, which first opened in 1953, closed “in the face of growing Communist agitation” in 1965 and reopened in early 1967, when Sukarno was replaced by a “moderate military elite,” according to a Ford report (emphasis added). This “moderate” military regime, claimed the Ford report, “lent its support to a group of Western-trained intellectuals who were brought… into key policy positions at the cabinet and sub-cabinet levels.” In fact, the report concluded, “this elite [was] drawn from the economics faculties in which the Foundation had invested so heavily.”107 The latter economists were therefore, by definition, moderate.
According to Peter Dale Scott, some of the long-term recipients of Ford Foundation funding—including student groups—were deeply involved with the Indonesian military, whose self-image had increasingly developed to encompass a leading political role in national affairs.108 In particular, groups that had played a role in the failed CIA-sponsored rebellion of 1958 were mobilized, in the 1960s, by the Army’s “civic action” programs. The right-wing Islamic Masjumi party and its allied Socialist Party of Indonesia, led by Sumitro, were also backed by the CIA, to the tune of several million dollars.109 Some SPI intellectuals and their associates in the army were also in close contact with Guy Pauker, an academic at Berkeley and RAND consultant: Pauker was openly advocating that the army take “full responsibility” for Indonesia’s future, take on the PKI, and “strike, sweep their house clean.”110 Pauker, a vehement anticommunist, was among the scholars who taught army officers at Seskoad counterinsurgency, economics, and administration.111 In an article of 1967, Pauker hailed the students who had led protests in Jakarta and noted Sukarno’s closure of the University of Indonesia after staunch student opposition to his administration.112 Scott suggests that the army began “to operate virtually as a para-state, independent of Sukarno’s government.” “This training programme was entrusted to officers and civilians close to the PSI. U.S. officials have confirmed that the civilians, who themselves were in a training program funded by the Ford Foundation, became involved in what the (then) U.S. military attaché called ‘contingency planning’ to prevent a PKI take-over.” Interestingly, in light of such close collaboration with Ford scholars, the Indonesian Army’s Territorial Organization had developed an infrastructure that included close liaisons with religious and cultu
ral organizations, youth groups, trade union and peasant organizations, and local and regional political parties—organizations and groups remarkably similar to those studied by George Kahin’s Cornell-UI group. Indeed, one leading Cornell group alumnus—Selosoemardjan—was closely involved in the liaison.113 Scott concludes that “these political liaisons with civilian groups provided the structure for the ruthless suppression of the PKI in 1965, including the bloodbath.”114
How did this “moderate military elite” rise to power in Indonesia, according to Ford’s own internal reports? Suharto’s accession to power followed an “attempted Communist coup” on September 30, 1965, a claim that remains contested.115 Another Ford report on Indonesia, summarizing developments from 1953 to 1969, does not mention the violence associated with the military takeover, though it contains numerous references to the shortcomings of the Sukarno period. For example, the period is referred to as one of “political hooliganism,” “threats and abuses,” “abusive rejection of [Western] assistance,” as leaving “scars” from “a long period of political repression,” as “marked by destructive influences,” an “almost uninterrupted state of instability,” and with “inherent administrative weakness.”116 The one reference to the coup in this particular Ford report merely notes that “the coup was staged and put down” ninety days after Ford’s offices closed in Jakarta: “Within eight weeks,” however, “the new government and the Foundation formalized a new assistance project…. Important matters… were being given attention in Indonesia.”117 The massacre of hundreds of thousands of “communists” did not warrant even a footnote.
Perhaps Ford merely wanted to move on with business and not dwell on the past. This argument is undermined by the numerous and constant references to the Sukarno period, as noted above. On returning to Ford’s reopened office in Jakarta, Miller noted that it was “my privilege… witnessing the shaping of affairs under General Suharto’s New Order, seeing the impressive achievements.”118 Miller, however, had returned to Jakarta in April 1966—a year before the Ford office reopened. His commentary on what he observed there is instructive.
Miller noted in a letter to New York, which was passed on to McGeorge Bundy, Ford’s president, that “Indonesia is vastly different”; the people “now feel that they are masters of their own souls… the country is… violently anti-communistic…. There is an atmosphere of sustained holiday-spirit and exhilaration over the change; and a virtual worship of the young people who have been forcing all elements against the Sukarno clique and regime.” Miller was “struck… [by] the virtual hilarity over the liquidation of several hundred thousand fellow-countrymen (the estimate given me by more than one credible Indonesian was 400,000).” Indonesians, in Miller’s experience, had never before known “as much freedom in critical judgments of Sukarno and his policies.” Suharto, conversely, was enjoying “extraordinarily solid and enthusiastic popular support.”119
There is neither the merest hint of criticism nor condemnation of the killing of four hundred thousand “communists.” Miller provides only a picture of happiness and freedom previously unseen; Ford can do business with the New Order, as Miller rapidly reports in the rest of his letter. Although some—including the former U.S. ambassador to Indonesia, Howard P. Jones—estimate that one million leftists were massacred, the figure of 450,000 to 500,000 is accepted by the Suharto regime. In addition, almost 1.5 million leftists were imprisoned after the annihilation of the Indonesian Communist Party (PKI).120 A leading role in the anticommunist massacre was played by students of the University of Indonesia, using the campus as their base, as Miller noted. One of Ford’s Indonesian economists, Soedjadtmoko, told Miller that Ford’s investment at UI “had really paid off in the past few months.”121 “I’m enjoying the trip. Hope all’s well in New York,” is how Miller’s letter to head office ended, echoing the views of the American government.122 Bresnan, conversely, claims that “informed opinion” was unaware of the scale of killing, despite Miller’s contemporaneous report and close relationship with Bresnan.123
Despite later protestations about Ford’s nonpolitical role in Indonesia, Miller was frank in his support of the new regime and proud of Ford’s role in creating leading economist cadres that were informally advising General Suharto. Indeed, Miller, in a report that was copied to McGeorge Bundy, urged the necessity of U.S. government aid to Indonesia. He argued that the regime needed strengthening to prevent the reemergence of Sukarno; therefore, “some tactfully conveyed encouragement to them [Indonesians] might be crucial at this stage… any efforts of our Government now to establish contact, informally and at any appropriate place, inside or outside Indonesia, might well be worthwhile.”124
Indonesia faced a grave economic crisis: inflation over 600 percent, growing external debt (over $2.3 billion), and inadequate export earnings. The new military regime believed that technocratic solutions were called for; they recruited Ford-trained economists, led by Widjojo Nitisastro (Berkeley), “heirs to the American tradition of thinking on economic development.”125 The other four members of the original five-man team of economic and financial experts were Mohammad Sadli (MIT), Subroto (Harvard; UI), Ali Wardhana (Berkeley), and Emil Salim (Berkeley). This was the same group of economists who had attended and lectured the armed forces at Seskoad, the Army’s staff college, on economic development and reform. Suharto was impressed by their intellectual “clarity… [and] unanimity… and their pragmatic sense.” They were later joined by Sumitro, “the mentor of them all,” who was asked to return from exile by Suharto.126 Foreign loans soon flowed in, as did overseas investment, especially following the drafting of a Foreign Investment Law in 1967. Once again, Ford-funded economists, working alongside Ford-sponsored American economists—this time from Harvard’s Development Advisory Service—played a critical role. Ford supplied over $2 million to Harvard’s DAS from 1968 to the mid-1970s to assist the National Development Planning Agency (also known as BAPPENAS), which was chaired by Widjojo.127 Together, the economists worked out a “rational, encouraging and enlightened policy… to attract domestic and foreign economic participation and investment.”128 Although Ford declared the DAS-BAPPENAS project a success, along with the soundness of the New Order’s market-led economic policies, there were grave reservations in Indonesia about the political impact of “modernization.” For example, Widjojo noted in 1973 that there was increasing public opposition to over-reliance on “the market system,” “foreign investment/aid/advice,” and to the “power and positions in the hands of the old economic group,” i.e., the technocrats.129 A Ford report in 1978 declared that despite “massive foreign investment” based on “concessions,” very few new jobs had been created. In addition, the armed forces “remain massively involved in illegal tax collection, smuggling and commercial activities.” And the technocrats were proving to be very poor state managers.130 Yet the same basic charges had been leveled since as early as 1968,131 and, despite them, Ford funds continued to pour into Indonesia, largely because the pro-American Suharto’s middle-class constituency of big business, Moslem landlords, intellectuals, and students expected and received economic benefits from the New Order.132
CONCLUSION
The Ford Foundation, guided by leading businessmen and state officials was, from its very inception, at the heart of the postwar U.S. foreign policy establishment. Its leaders were anticommunist supporters of U.S. hegemony in world affairs. To be sure, the foundation’s functions in the American-led world order differed from those of the state, but their objectives were the same: to penetrate foreign societies, economies, and polities and draw them into the American orbit—and away from nationalistic/leftist philosophies and alliances.133 Ford constructed a series of networks—based around power-knowledge—that mobilized and integrated academics in the United States and Indonesia armed with theories of capitalist economic development. Ford’s resources were also vital in generating specific lines of economic and political research, to the exclusion of others, thereby mobilizing
bias. Even more than this, Ford acted in a semicovert manner to penetrate the Indonesian academy and to reform some of its flagship institutions, especially the University of Indonesia. The long-term effect of such programs and reforms was to create cadres of intellectuals, opposed to the Indonesian administration, who planned for the eventual demise of Sukharno and the opening up of the Indonesian economy to foreign investment, international loans, and friendship with the United States.
Ford’s initiatives, however, were not one sided or imposed on unwilling Indonesian academics: they were welcomed with open arms by Western-educated, pro-American economists and even by the Sukarno administration. The former, however, were more fully aware of the full range of formal and informal activities that were being conducted under the banner of “research”—into the village power structure, students’ attitudes, political elite backgrounds, and other studies. The latter appeared, on the whole, to accept Ford’s public image of nonpolitical, nonideological, and unofficial aid agency.
Was Ford part of an American hegemonic strategy? Certainly, two American professors from the UI-Berkeley program thought so and duly resigned, citing opposition to Ford’s “American policy of empire.” The American “empire,” as Huntington put it, was less wedded to territorial acquisition than to territorial penetration. Ford intervened in and intellectually penetrated Indonesia principally because of its economic resources and strategic position as well as its political-ideological attraction to communism and socialism and desire to carve out a specifically Indonesian path to development. American policy makers and Ford officials frequently justified their interest with reference to the Soviet and/or Chinese “threat,” the Korean War, and general decolonization processes, projecting an image of defensive action. Though such defensiveness may have been justified, it was not the only motivating factor, as references to Indonesia as a “great prize” attest. Indonesia had much to offer American capital in terms of cheap labor, a large internal market, and its very favorable climate for foreign investment. Ultimately, therefore, the evidence strongly supports a Gramscian analysis of the roles of the Ford Foundation in Indonesia, severely undermining the orthodox views of Karl and Katz. Ford constructed in Indonesia an effective counterhegemonic bloc of politically and militarily well-connected intellectuals who looked to the United States and international financial institutions for their country’s economic modernization and progress, greatly assisting its transformation into a “model pupil of globalization.” In this project, Ford’s initiatives dovetailed with and complemented those of the American state.
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